


oneshots

by ilikeyougreenie



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Boys In Love, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Minho Ships It, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sleepy Thomas, Thomas is a dork, and prompts, just random things that pop into my head, oneshots, thomas is adorable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeyougreenie/pseuds/ilikeyougreenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a series of oneshots either based on prompts or just little things that pop into my head.</p><p>1. you are halcyon - sleepy thomas and cosmic utterances<br/>2. the colour wheel - the one in which thomas discovers that white & red make pink and newt cannot believe how dorky his boyfriend is</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you are halcyon

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone!! rac here with some new work, hooray!!!!! i have wanted to write some domestic oneshots for ages so i figured, why not make a big work for all of the oneshots i create! i am open to prompts so if you have anything for me you can just let me know here or on tumblr (my url is i-like-you-greenie). these oneshots will probably vary in length and in subject matter, but i hope you enjoy them nonetheless!

They had been dating for just over 6 months now, living together for 2 of them. From the very first night they had shared an apartment, they had fallen into something of a routine when the days wound down and stars were thrown haphazardly across the sky. They would climb beneath the sheets when the clock hit ten; Thomas’ chin resting on Newt’s stomach, the latter tracing his fingers up and down the ridges of Thomas’ spine.

 

Newt, a self-confessed lover of poetry, would open his worn collection of Keats’ works at any one of a multitude of ink-stained, dog-eared pages, and begin reading, the soft cadences of his voice lulling Thomas into a star-speckled sleep. After an hour or so, Newt would replace his book upon the nightstand by the bone white lamp and a little bottle of pills, pressing a kiss to Thomas’ temple before following his boyfriend into the cosmic throes of rest. 

 

The previous night had gone much like those before. Thomas had fallen asleep to Newt’s stilted recital of Keats, the latter staying awake a little longer than usual to watch the stars twinkle gently in the black surround of the sky, surrendering to Hypnos as the bedside clock blinked midnight.

 

Newt woke a few hours later, sitting up against the headboard and looking over to where Thomas lay with the sheets tangled around his waist, the pale expanse of his back marred by the small birthmark gracing his left shoulder blade, shaped like a shooting star. Newt would often tuck himself close to Thomas, imagining his back to be a galaxy, the smatterings of moles and freckles the stars, his cosmic birthmark a wish. Now, however, he leaned down carefully to press a feather-light kiss to that birthmark, the barest brush of lips against skin, a rogue curl tickling the base of Thomas' neck. 

 

A small path of kisses followed the first, each lighter than the one before, trailing up Thomas' shoulder and neck before pausing at the shell of his ear. 

 

"Good morning, Tommy," Newt whispered softly, lips grazing the latter's earlobe, sending an imperceptible and unconscious shiver through the boy beneath him. "Wake up, love." 

 

As if Newt's voice had travelled to him even in the deepest throes of sleep, Thomas stirred slightly, mumbling incoherently as he turned over onto his back, that beautiful birthmark pressed against the white mattress. The brunet reached out blindly, hands colliding with Newt's knee and hip, pulling him down into a tight embrace. 

 

"Morning," Thomas breathed against Newt's neck, pressing a light kiss to the pulse point he found there. "What time s'it?" He mumbled huskily, pressing his face down against Newt's skin, his lips finding the juncture of neck and shoulder and resting there in the barest of embraces. 

 

"Half six." Newt responded, his hands finding their place upon Thomas' lower back and resting there as though they belonged upon that cosmic canvas. Thomas groaned sleepily, shaking his head and burying his face further into Newt's neck, refusing to so much as shift from this very spot.

 

"S'too early, Newt, lemme sleep." Thomas pleaded, far too content in this moment to even consider detaching himself from his boyfriend and going to that godawful thing known as _work_. 

 

"Tommy," Newt chuckled, moving one hand up to ruffle the other boy's chocolate locks in a gesture dripping with fondness. "You know I would give anything to stay here all day, but we do have to work." 

 

"Don't wanna." Thomas shook his head, lashes tickling Newt's shoulder as he moved his head from side to side. He pressed himself as close as was humanly possible to his boyfriend, and although the embrace was slightly stifling, Newt wouldn't change a single thing about it. 

 

You see, there were many sides to Thomas, and this sleepy version was certainly Newt's favourite. Sleepy Thomas was relaxed and free of inhibitions, and had a tendency of uttering things that often took Newt's very breath away. 

 

"I love you, Newt," Thomas mumbled quietly, tilting his head slightly to press a soft kiss to the blond's shoulder. "I've never loved anything as much as I love you." 

 

And there it was, that single sentence that had the ability to knock all of the air from Newt's lungs. 

 

The blond broke into a smile, a burst of beauty on an early morning, and tucked his head into Thomas' shoulder in order to repeat that same sentiment into the latter's skin. 

 

And as dawn broke outside their window, a thick lavender hue spreading across the sky, praises were whispered into star-speckled skin and constellations strung together with a few simple words. 


	2. the colour wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one in which thomas discovers that white & red make pink and newt cannot believe how dorky is boyfriend is.

“Newt! Have you seen my white shirt?” Thomas called from the bedroom, the blond in question sighing slightly and padding through from the kitchen. They were going for lunch with Newt’s parents in an hour, and it was safe to say that the sheer prospect of meeting his boyfriend’s parents had Thomas’ mind in turmoil. Newt rounded the corner into their bedroom, stopping dead in the doorway at the pandemonium. Clothes were strewn everywhere; a shirt had even managed to get caught on the lampshade.

 

It reminded Newt of the rainbow of shirts scene from _Gatsby_ , only far less symbolic and certainly far less beautiful.

 

“Oh my god, look at you,” Thomas groaned, eyes flicking over Newt’s figure which was significantly more _clothed_ than his own. Thomas stood amidst the fray in only a pair of boxers, whilst Newt was fully dressed in a white t-shirt and a grey suit jacket, matched with a pair of unforgivable skinny jeans that Thomas _loved_. “You look fucking beautiful and I’m gonna look like some homeless trash you pulled in off the streets.”

 

Newt snorted in response, shaking his head and picking his way across the room towards his boyfriend, who looked mere moments away from descending into a full blown panic. He slid his hands up Thomas’ chest to cup his jaw, stroking his thumbs along the brunet’s cheekbones gently.

 

“You always look beautiful, Tommy, you don’t need to worry about that. Hell, you could wear a bloody plastic bag and still outshine the rest of us,” Newt chuckled, tugging Thomas down for a quick kiss. “I love you, remember that. No matter how today goes, I love you,” Newt whispered, lips brushing Thomas’ own as he spoke. “Now, what shirt was it you wanted? The white one with the little wooden buttons?”

 

Thomas nodded dumbly, hands still planted firmly on Newt’s hips, even as the latter tried to move away. The blond let out a soft sigh, soaked in adoration, and prised Thomas’ fingers from his hips gently.

 

“You sure it isn’t here, Tommy?”

 

“M’sure.”

 

“Maybe it’s in the-“

 

“The drier!” Thomas lit up, grabbing Newt and planting a chaste kiss on his lips in victory before rushing out of the room towards the utility. He managed to catch his foot on that _damn_ Burberry scarf Teresa and Minho had given him for Christmas the previous year, tripping and almost banging his head off the doorframe, but he managed to right himself before such a travesty could occur and continued running for the lost shirt. “Thanks, Newt!”

 

Newt chuckled at his complete _dork_ of a boyfriend, shaking his head as he began sorting out all of the clothes their closet seemed to have puked up. He had hardly lifted three shirts when he heard his name being called again, and looked up to find Thomas standing at the door, still sans a shirt and with a rather meek expression on his face.

 

“What is it, Tommy? Was it not there?” Newt frowned, straightening up and hanging the shirts he had lifted over his arm.

 

“Well, it was but-” Thomas bit his bottom lip, in what would have been an endearing fashion when they weren’t rushing for lunch with Newt’s parents, and produced from behind his back a very pink looking shirt.

 

_With little wooden buttons._

 

“I may have washed it with a pair of red socks,” Thomas mumbled in embarrassment, his cheeks flushing a very pretty shade that matched the shirt in his hands. “And now it’s pink!” He wailed, throwing the shirt up in the air and letting out a _harrumph_ as it landed over his head. Newt did everything he could to hold in his laughter, biting the inside of his cheek as he laid the shirts over his arm down on the bed and approached Thomas once again.

 

“Don’t panic, babe, we can work with this!” Newt chuckled, tugging the shirt off Thomas’ head and revealing his very disgruntled looking boyfriend. “You go and get your hair sorted, I _know_ how specific you are about that, and I’ll look you out some jeans and shoes to go with this, okay?”

 

“You are a lifesaver, Newt Issacs.” Thomas gave a crooked grin, pressing a tender kiss to Newt’s forehead before dashing off into the bathroom to fix his hair, leaving Newt the task of raking through the mountains of clothes around their room to find the perfect jeans.

 

And when Newt heard Thomas practicing his greeting whilst running hair gel through his rogue locks, _“Hello, Mrs. Isaacs, a pleasure to finally meet you.”_ , he knew that despite the rocky start, this was going to be a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rac here again! i think this verse is pretty cute so i shall be posting a part 2 to this little fic in a few days :) hope you enjoyed! x

**Author's Note:**

> wow i think this takes the prize for being the fluffiest thing i have ever written in my life i am actually drowning in the fluff right now im sorry


End file.
